


Tenerife Sea

by moon_hedgehog



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Different Worlds, F/M, Lighthouses, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, all for the aesthetic honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: Two people, two worlds, two lighthouses, and a start of one long journey.





	Tenerife Sea

**Author's Note:**

> just a little moodfic?

Every morning the first sun over a rocky cliff stains the grass in pale gold. Lazy waves of foam get broken down on the shore, caressing caves in rock; bringing gifts with them. These gifts are collected by a young girl named Rey – her apparel consists of a plain blue overall, and from a short girdle wrapped around her waist, hangs shabby bag. It has so many-many things stored, so many untouched memories. So much life and same much of beautiful wilting. Hands of Rey pick up crushed seashells and bottle shards, marble-pink pebbles and chains of someone's pendants.

Above her rises a freshly whitened lighthouse with a red roof and a shining lens – Rey feels the presence of her home with her back, and involuntarily begins to hum a song.

 

Every morning a broken compass on the oak table points to the north. Next to him lie old pilot's goggles and a small flashlight with messed batteries. All these things, to a certain extent, belong to the young boy Ben Solo – although this name he has long escaped, having lost faith in his family, of which was so persistently taught. Now behind him is a traveler's backpack, a frazzled map shows him the way, and his pitch hair flutters the wind of freedom. With every step, he feels the breath of life and deep down dreams of returning home.

Ahead lies an abandoned lighthouse with a tiled roof – Kylo stops, small stones crunch beneath his feet.

_

At noon, Rey conjures over boiling pots in the outbuilding of the lighthouse. Tiny - even for a nondescript furniture of her house - kitchen is filled with a salty smell of fish. She sets the table with a colorful oilcloth, corrects the vase with irises already dying from the sea air, and pulls her hand away of the scalding steam. Silvery lines on her wrist cuddle into tiny offended snakes, and she grins to herself.

Later, Rey descends to the shore and peers into the gloomy horizon, frowning. The wind plays with her hair, weaving strands in braids. With her fingertips, she runs along a large coastal boulder, and then suddenly takes a felt-tip pen out of her pocket and quickly-quickly writes.

 

At noon, Kylo takes a deep breath and gets a blue-white towel out of his backpack. Sharp stones create irregularities on his improvised resting place, but he is so tired that now it has absolutely no significance. He leans back, seeking out the outlines of other places in the clear sky. Once upon a time, he dreamed of becoming the first person to visit that world, with a violet shining over his head now. Mother laughed, and father called him his pilot – it was all so stupid but continued to warm his heart in the coldest days of a year.

Turning aside, Kylo touches a coastal boulder with a hand on which lazily dance silver curls, feeling a light breeze under his nails. The surface under strangely knolls, and squinting, Solo notices the remnants of a red felt-tip pen.

_

By dusk, anticipation fills the air. Rey locks the doors of the lighthouse, and slams shut the hatch to the top floor. The dampness has already managed to get into her room, its tentacles creeping out from under closed blinds. With luck, trouble will turn round her lonely house and this time. However, she's done enough to meet it face to face. All that remains is to sort out your own collection, weighing each thing on the palms of your hands.

The lantern hanging from the ceiling soon begins to flash, but even in the semi-darkness, Rey notices that a sapphire bead in the shape of a heart – found at the foot of a broken boat – is gone. She jumps out of bed and looks around, inserts her fingers into hair and decides to open the room's door, and then the gate of her lighthouse. The north wind fiercely squeezes her robes into a fist and cuts her eyes, but there, in the distance, at a large boulder, really lies her little, precious gift given by the sea.

 

By dusk, the soft splashing of water whispers into his ears. Kylo re-reads “For I, and You, are waves” once again, marveling at how the sea hasn't washed away this little message to everyone who's visited the abode of this old lighthouse. Red letters, however, don't look old – on the contrary, they ooze with a furious life, as if their mysterious creator was here just recently. He doesn't hold back and touches letters once again, as in a dream of absorbing them into, hammering under the skin like a paint. The roads-lines on his wrist wrap in rings with curved edges.

Nearby the lighthouse, Ren finds a bead, barely discernible in a withered grass and puts it at a large boulder with a message. He isn't quite sure why he's doing it – but some invisible force pushes him forward. His eyelids close wearily, and soon Solo falls into a dream.

 

When a ferocious gust of the night wind pulls him by the edge of his shirt and wakes, the bead is gone.

~

In fisherman's eyes splashes the untamed sea, and his beard is streaked with grayness – Kylo doesn't know why, but immediately begins to believe him. On his sinewy wrist has frozen maroon lines, already completely dull and faded, needless. Quite an old man, he looks at the water, unable to replace the one to whom pointed destiny and Ren watches with him, cannot fully decide how to present himself.

In the sky above them blooms a field, dotted with daisies, poppies, and sage. On top of it overlapping stars, like very special flowers, tears of an invisible lady scattered on the grass. Somewhere out there, on the other side of the world, the moon divides these two worlds – similar, and completely different. The sun hardly leaves its dream, drawing a trace on the waves. Ben Solo opens his mouth and begins to speak.

 

Rey shivers and plaits her hair in a braid. Three cups of meant tea with honey helped her to warm up after a night walk, but her skin seemed to have absorbed the salt storm spray forever. A cheerful song remains somewhere far in the back of memory, for now she is completely absorbed into what happened yesterday. She spins and spins her bead-loss, examining the heavens above – from yesterday's weather has left only a tiny cluster of dark blue clouds, lost sheep without a care of their shepherd. Far behind them shine the stars, and further rises white, futuristic buildings of another city. Rey wasn't born in this and for this, she still fears that once beaming in heavens neon lights will crush her little world. She still doesn't understand why she didn't go to one of these cities in her home world but doesn't think she seeks it either.

She only wants to find out what happened yesterday – so hastily collects a bag with things, not forgetting to grab the bead, and leaves the lighthouse without turning around.

_

In response to him – a story about twisted reflections, and related souls divided by worlds. Kylo thinks that this applies to him. For all the long years in a gray, ugly cage of the city and away from it, he hasn't seen anyone with the same curls that's decorated his wrist and has long ago forgotten about the possible life companion. All who's surrounded him were satisfied with a thousand iridescent shades on their skin, choosing a partner with their souls. On their hands were written coal paths, velvety-blue waves, gray cat's fur – but nothing closely resembling sparkling silver under the sun. Only now Ren thinks about what could it mean.

The old fisherman intently looks into his eyes and says that perhaps the time of change has finally come.

 

She takes the first steps towards an unknown world and feels how indecision spreads through the veins. Rey has heard about this – if you find the same place in the second dimension, things start to mix with each other, like an old deck of cards. Above her lighthouse hangs a foreign city, and above the lighthouse on the other side – something else, but despite this, two different buildings are attracted to each other like a red and blue splinters of one magnet. If she'd know only who, after so many years of silence, has decided to dilute her loneliness with their invisible presence. Who gave a barely noticeable sign, getting her own in return. Who was so brave that's managed to make her wake up from a seemingly eternal dream, from a drizzling murk, weaving her house's roof and moss-grown stones.

If Rey won't find it out, she will never forgive herself.

 


End file.
